


The Kings and the Princes

by jaydee09



Series: Two Kings [5]
Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-21
Updated: 2014-01-04
Packaged: 2018-01-05 10:01:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,916
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1092585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jaydee09/pseuds/jaydee09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Thorin and Thranduil's obsession with each other means that they spend too much time in bed and not enough time 'kinging'.  They selfishly decide to train up their heirs so that they can pass over some of their duties and see each other more often.  How will Legolas and Young Thorin, son of Dain, get along together and will they object to being used in this way?</p><p>This is part of my Two Kings series and follows on from King of the Antlered Throne, King of the Marble Halls, Kings of the Forest and Mountain and The Kings and the Elf Lord.  A lot more stories have been posted and I have written 18 so far.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Altercation and Consultation

The Kings and the Princes

 

Altercation

 

Brangwyn stood outside the door of Thorin’s apartments in Erebor and raised her hand to knock.  And then she paused and sighed.  Not again.  The sounds of an argument penetrated even this stout door and she lowered her hand.  They were always arguing these days - loudly.  And it was usually about the same thing.  She wasn’t surprised because it was only to be expected in such a tempestuous relationship where passions were so intense and ran so high.

 

She could hear Thorin yelling now:  “Go!  Go then!  See if I care!  You obviously don’t value my companionship!”

 

And, now, Thranduil yelling back: “Your companionship?  And why should I stay in Erebor for the companionship of an ill-tempered dwarf?”

 

“Well, I’ve always known that it wasn’t exactly my personality you were here for!” shouted Thorin nastily.

 

“No, I suppose you think I’m only interested in your little, hairy body!” was the equally nasty reply.

 

“Well, this little, hairy body seems to arouse a damn sight more interest from some people than your tall, lanky one!”

 

“Who?  Who’s interested?  Tell me now and I’ll kill him!”

 

“Yes, that’s your answer to everything, isn’t it?  You and your jealousy!  Sometimes it’s intolerable!”

 

“Almost as intolerable as the way you try to control my movements!”

 

“What movements!  I’ve just told you that you can clear off out of Erebor if that’s what you want!”

 

“And why is it always me who has to stay here?  Why are you never willing to come with me?”

 

“I’m willing but the elf lords don’t exactly make me welcome!”

 

“And aren’t you prepared to make any sacrifices to get your hands on this tall, lanky body?”

 

There was a sudden silence and Brangwyn decided to come back later when they were both better-humoured.

 

Within the room, Thorin and Thranduil faced each other, both glaring, both flushed and panting.  Suddenly, Thorin stepped forward and grabbed hold of Thranduil by his collar and pulled him into a voracious kiss.  “Actually,” he whispered huskily, “I’d make quite a few sacrifices to lay my hands on this tall, lanky body.”  And, pressing his lips to Thranduil’s again, he ran his fingers down the elven king’s back and grasped his long fall of silken hair, tugging his head back and exposing his enticing, white neck.

 

Thranduil responded with equal passion and pressed the dwarf backwards towards the bed.  “And I don’t know what it is about your hairy, little body but it drives me to the edge of madness,” he murmured throatily.

 

He threw Thorin onto the mattress and the dwarf reached out to pull him down upon his broad chest.  The elven king tore open his shirt and sighed with pleasure as he ran his face over the silken pelt that he found there.  “Ahh,” he groaned.  “So much more seductive than the smooth skin of elves.”  But, Thorin was discovering that the smooth skin of elves was equally arousing as he bared and kissed Thranduil’s shoulders.  And as the dwarf sucked a hairless nipple, the elven king thrust a hand below Thorin’s waist band and grasped his swollen member.  Satin and stone, he thought.

 

After an hour of frantic love-making, they lay in each other’s arms and both of them finally let out a sigh.  “Well, that didn’t exactly get us any further forward,” said Thranduil.

 

“No,” grinned Thorin.  “But it was a load of fun!”

 

“It’s not a laughing matter,” said the elf sternly, settling the dwarf more firmly into the crook of his arm.  “We’ve got to sort this out.”

 

They spent most of their time with each other, sometimes in Mirkwood, but most usually in Erebor which was the more congenial place for both of them.  However, Thranduil felt as though he was beginning to let things slip in his own kingdom and had told Thorin this morning that he had to go home.  And then, as usual, the arguments started.

 

It was extraordinarily difficult for them to part with each other and the demands of their kingships made things even more tricky.  When their relationship had first started, it had seemed sensible to spend some time together and some time apart so that they could concentrate on their duties without the distractions of each other’s company, but, the more they were together, the more they found it impossible to go their separate ways, and the situation was made more complex by the poor welcome that Thorin received whenever he travelled to Mirkwood.

 

Thranduil cupped the dwarf’s face in a gentle hand: “So beautiful,” he said, brushing Thorin’s lips with his own.

 

“Even if the face is attached to this little, hairy body?” asked Thorin.

 

“ _Especially_ if it’s attached to this extremely desirable hairy body,” murmured the elf.  And he began to roll on top of his lover once more.

 

But, Thorin laughed and pushed him off.  “Not yet, Thanduil,” he said.  “We’ve got to think.”

 

“All right,” agreed the elf lord.  “To sum things up: we want to spend all our time with each other but that usually means we have no time for our duties.  What to do?”

 

“Unload our duties on someone else?”

 

“Well, perhaps.  But, we’re kings and it would be wrong to unload too much.  And who would take the burden from us anyway?  Our people would be angry if we favoured some councillor with the task.  That would defeat the whole purpose of kingship.”

 

“How about Legolas?” Thorin suddenly asked.  “After all, he is your king in waiting.”

 

“And what about Young Thorin, Dain’s son?” was Thranduil’s suggestion.  “He is _your_ king in waiting and it’s about time that he came to Erebor.  It will take months to give them some initial training,” he mused, “but, if they can free up even some of our time, it’ll all be worth it.”

 

“Worth what?” rumbled Thorin in his dark, chocolate voice as he slipped a hand between the elf’s thighs.

 

“Worth the time we’d have for _this_ , of course,” purred Thranduil. 

 

And so, it was just as well that Brangwyn didn’t return to the dwarven king’s apartment for quite a few hours.

 

.o00o.

 

Consultation

 

Brangwyn found the two kings drifting around in casual silken robes and she could see a rumpled bed through the door of the adjacent room.  Ah, she grinned to herself.  It would seem that they have kissed and made up – among other things.

 

“How can we help you, Brangwyn?” asked Thorin, smiling.

 

“W-e-l-l,” she said slowly.  “Now, you two mustn’t take offence, but I thought I’d better warn you that the Council are getting a bit restless because of your constant absence from their meetings.  It doesn’t look good, you know.”

 

“Yes, we know,” said Thorin, “and we’re feeling rather shame-faced about things.  We’ve had a – umm – discussion about the situation.  We’ve decided that we haven’t been carrying out our duties properly of late and that we must do something about it.”

 

Brangwyn looked pleased that they were taking things seriously.  “And…..?” she asked.

 

“We’re thinking we should get our heirs involved.  I shall be summoning Young Thorin and Thranduil is going home to talk to Legolas.”

 

“I’ll give him some initial training in Mirkwood,” said Thranduil, “whilst Thorin introduces Young Thorin to Erebor and then my son and I will come here so that we two kings and the two princes can get to know each other.   Balin can help us with the tuition of both of them after that.”

 

“And if our two heirs become familiar with each other – and even like each other – it will be excellent for future dwarf/elf diplomacy,” added Thorin.

 

“Well, it sounds good in theory,” said Brangwyn, but with a slight hesitancy in her voice because she felt uneasy about the measure of selfishness that seemed involved.  Their obsession with each other was taking them down some undesirable paths as far as she was concerned.  But, she continued: “What sort of areas of kingship do you think they can help you with?”

 

“The biggest chore,” laughed Thorin, “is the bookkeeping  - keeping track of what’s going on in the treasury, how much we have, what it’s being spent on etc.”

 

“What you have is limitless,” grumbled Thranduil.  “The elves of Mirkwood do not have such wealth and that’s why keeping control of the economy is important to us.  But, I would agree with Thorin: it’s very boring and a chore I would gladly pass on, even if only in part.”

 

“Let’s hope they’re both good at figures and calculations then,” muttered Thorin.

 

“And what else could they do?” asked Brangwyn.

 

“Another burden on us,” said Thorin, “are the functions we’re expected to appear at, such as formal dinners which go on for hours and where we’re often expected to give speeches.  And then there are official appearances in places like Dale.  They’re not important but the people just like to have a stare at you.  They can be quite pleasant - not too demanding except in the amount of time they consume - and I’m sure that everyone will be very curious to see the new heirs to the throne.”

 

“Then, of course,” put in Thranduil, “there might be a bit of law-making and the passing out of justice but I think these are too important to leave to novices.  They would be expected to accompany us to the courts, however, so that they could get their hand in, so to speak.  And the same would go for the Council meetings…”

 

“Which….” interrupted Brangwyn, “you have been missing so frequently just recently.”

 

The two kings bit their lips and hung their heads, looking so much like naughty little boys that Brangwyn had to laugh.

 

“We promise not to truant any more,” said Thorin, his hand on his heart.

 

“But, I’m sure you had very good reasons,” said Brangwyn.  And the two kings glanced across at each other with sly grins.

 

Then Thorin hastened off to send a messenger to the Iron Hills whilst Thranduil made preparations to return to Mirkwood.  Before the elf set off, they held each other in a long embrace.

 

“I shall be gone for at least two weeks,” whispered Thranduil in his lover’s ear.

 

“And I shall count every hour,” murmured Thorin.  And they parted on a passionate kiss.

 

.o00o.

 

In fact, Thorin sometimes found himself counting every minute, especially in the small hours when he awoke to find that Thranduil wasn’t curled up into his back.  Then he tossed and turned until the dawn came in.  But, the arrival of Young Thorin, son of Dain, prince of the Iron Hills and heir apparent to the throne of Erebor helped to distract him a bit.

 

Like Thorin, the prince was tall and muscular and handsome but with blond hair, hanging in braids (just like Fili, Thorin thought rather sadly).  He remembered him only from the Battle of the Five Armies when the young dwarf had fought bravely enough to impress even the King under the Mountain.  And, at the time, he had seemed a suitable heir to the throne.

 

But, Thorin had been gravely wounded and hadn’t got to know him well before he had returned with his father to the Iron Hills.  He seemed to have changed somewhat since that time and Thorin wondered if this was the way he had always been or if the prospect of becoming King of Erebor had affected him in some way.

 

“So, what do you think of him?” Thorin asked Brangwyn, the day after the prince had arrived.

 

“He’s a cross between you and Thranduil,” she laughed.

 

“Stroppy and arrogant?”

 

“Spot on,” agreed the dwarf woman.  “But, he’s also very good-looking, just like the both of you.  You know, you two could be his parents.”  And she giggled at the thought.

 

“Don’t laugh,” muttered Thorin.  “I’m a bit concerned that he isn’t quite as I remember him.”

 

On the day that he had arrived, Thorin had taken him on a tour of Erebor.  He had gazed at the great marble halls and the huge piles of gold in the treasury.  “It will be good to come into my own,” he had said, his head tilted at a haughty angle as if this day was about to happen any time now.

 

“Well, I’m not dead yet, lad,” Thorin had grunted at his elbow and Young Thorin had looked startled as if he hadn’t thought of that aspect of his inheritance.

 

Then Thorin had introduced him to Brangwyn.  “This is one whom you should thank,” he said, “because if she had accepted my offer of marriage, she might have conceived an heir of Durin by now and you would not be king in waiting.”

 

The prince had given her an odd, side-long glance as if he couldn’t imagine anyone foolish enough to turn down a chance of the throne.  He saw it as a weakness in her and dismissed the dwarf woman as a person of no account.

 

.o00o.

Next chapter: Misconceptions and Preoccupations. Young Prince Thorin gets hold of the wrong idea about Brangwyn and the two heirs-in-waiting don't exactly see eye to eye. Is all this training such a good idea or will it end in chaos?


	2. Misconceptions and Preoccupations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Legolas and Young Thorin, son of Dain, are brought together for the first time - and they don't like each other. How will their training work out and will it help Thorin and Thranduil to spend more time in bed together?

Misconceptions

 

Brangwyn, the dwarf woman, linked a friendly arm in that of Young Thorin and led the prince off to show him his apartments.  She’s behaving like my mother, he thought to himself, even though she must be the same age as me.

 

“What position do you hold at the court?” he asked her as they walked down the long corridors together.

 

Brangwyn paused before answering.  A very strange position, she felt like saying.  She had come to Erebor as a potential bride for Thorin but had remained as his friend.  She seemed to have found a little niche.  The dwarf lords all appeared to accept her and neither Thorin nor Thranduil wanted her to go home.

 

Finally, she said: “I am Thorin’s friend.  He seems to like having me around.”  And Young Thorin gave her a curious look.

 

They reached his apartments which were very fine.  “Thorin used these when he was the heir of Durin,” she said, “but now he has moved on to the king’s quarters.”  The prince was very impressed by their grandeur and beauty.  There had been nothing like this in the Iron Hills which was a tough, wild, border area.  But, he was not going to let Brangwyn know that his home had been much less regal than this.  He flung himself down on a soft couch and asked, “So, why didn’t you and the king get married, then?”

 

Brangwyn was startled.  Surely Dain had explained to his son why Thorin would not be producing an heir and why the lad was now next in line to the throne?  Apparently not.  Brangwyn trod carefully.  It was not her place to tell the prince about Thranduil.

 

“So, what did your father say about the situation?” she asked.

 

The prince furrowed his brow.  “Well, he said that the king had been very seriously wounded in the battle and felt the need to appoint an heir.  And I was his choice.  I suppose I assumed that he had been injured……had been injured……umm……in the genital area, and could no longer indulge in – umm – intimacy with any proposed bride.”  He was blushing and Brangwyn nearly burst out laughing.   The idea of the virile dwarf being unable to indulge in ‘intimacy’ was a very amusing thought.

 

“Well, that’s something I think you need to talk about with him, I suppose,” she smiled.

 

“And are you his – umm – comforter?” he asked.  He really wanted to know what her relationship was with Thorin.

 

“Yes,” she grinned, remembering the number of times she had come to his aid. “I suppose I do comfort him.”  And the prince looked across at Brangwyn and thought what a waste that was.  Upon proper study, he could see how good-looking she was: her pretty hair, her dancing eyes, her full breasts.  There were so few dwarven women anyway, and now the king was playing dog in the manger with this one.  And the more he looked at her, the more annoyed he felt.

 

After he had examined his apartments, she led him back to the king’s quarters and there she left him. 

 

“And do you like your new rooms?” asked Thorin.

 

“Yes, they will do,” he replied nonchalantly.  And Thorin smiled because he had spent time in Dain’s court during his exile and knew how grim and spartan was the accommodation there.  Still, he would say nothing and let the boy keep his pride.

 

They talked together about the training that the prince would undergo and suddenly the young dwarf looked up and asked what his recompense would be for all his efforts.  “What can I expect to receive as a prince of Erebor and heir to the throne?”

 

Thorin blinked.  “You mean objects to mark your status?” he asked.  And the prince nodded.  But, of course, the boy had come with very little, he supposed, and might be ashamed to appear at court poorly dressed.

 

“Well,” he said in a kindly fashion, “feel free to go down to the Treasury and select a range of rings, torcs, bracelets, ear cuffs and gold chains.  And, in the Armoury you will find some very fine weapons from the hoard.  Moreover, you may give instructions to my tailor who will make you clothing in any fabric you may care to choose.  Is there anything else?”  And he raised an amused eyebrow.

 

The prince fidgeted slightly as he stood by the balcony.  “And what about a woman?” he asked gruffly.

 

Thorin let out a roar of laughter.  “A woman?!  Well, I shall tell you what Dwalin told me at your age: go and hammer your frustrations away on the anvil.”

 

This was not the answer that the young dwarf wanted and he looked up and glared at Thorin.  “What if I shared your whore?” he said.

 

“My whore?”  And Thorin looked genuinely puzzled.

 

“Brangwyn,” he muttered.

 

For a moment, Thorin just stared at him and then he struck him such a blow on the face that the youngster went reeling across the room.

 

“Brangwyn is no whore,” he snarled.  “She is her own woman and answers to no-one.  Never let me hear you speak again with such disrespect about the king’s friend!”

 

The prince raised an angry hand to his bleeding lip.  “And is not ‘the king’s friend’ just another term for ‘the king’s whore’?”

 

Thorin controlled his rage.  “And if she were, why would I share her with you?”

 

“Because,” the lad said furiously, spitting out blood upon the marble floor, “you cannot service her and I thought I would do you both a favour.”

 

Thorin stood with his mouth open and finally said, “What on earth are you talking about?”

 

“My father told me that you were so seriously injured in battle that you could no longer produce an heir,” was the sullen response.

 

Thorin gaped some more and then he let out a great roar of laughter.  “What length some fathers will go to in order to protect their children,” he sneered. “The reason why I never married Brangwyn – nor any other woman – is that I already have a lover: and his name is Thranduil of Mirkwood.”

 

It was Young Thorin’s turn to gape.  Then he turned bright red and, spinning on his heel, ran from the room.  The dwarven king sighed and shook his head.  Who would be young again?  He would have to talk with him seriously once the boy had calmed down.

 

.o00o.

 

Preoccupations

 

Young Thorin kept a polite distance from his king for the next two weeks but worked hard at his lessons which he took with the dwarven scribes who managed the vast hoard.  And then Thranduil appeared one day with his reluctant son, Legolas, in tow.

 

Unlike his counterpart, Legolas was completely aware of the relationship between his father and Thorin of Erebor; in fact, it was impossible to avoid because of the gossip at the elven court.  His feelings were very confused on the matter.  In one way, he was pleased that another woman hadn’t taken his mother’s place but that the new lover was a dwarf was totally incomprehensible to him.  And not only did he fail to understand, he found the relationship repugnant.  He, himself, was sure that he would never associate with dwarves as colleagues and friends, let alone at this level of intimacy.  And he wondered if his father were not, in fact, a little mad.

 

But, he had been pleased to receive so much time and attention from Thranduil these past weeks and had reluctantly travelled with him to Erebor, a place he had never visited before.  He had fought in the great battle on the windy plains before the dwarven city but, after it was all over, his father had sent him back to Mirkwood.  Now he entered the marble halls of the Lonely Mountain and felt a sense of awe.  In some ways, it reminded him of his own palace in Mirkwood; but, instead of naturally growing and twisted tree trunks forming pillars and bridges, here everything had been laboriously carved and polished by the hands of dwarves.  It was a great monument to their skill, artistry and perseverance, and, although his feelings towards the dwarven race were cold, he could not but admire their beautiful craftsmanship.

 

Seeing Thorin again, as Thranduil led the way into the dwarf’s apartments, made him realise that he had a similar attitude towards his father’s lover.  He didn’t like him because he was a dwarf and therefore Other, but there were things about him that he admired: his strange, dwarven beauty, his courage in battle, his warrior skills, even his apparent devotion to his father in the face of animosity from the elf lords.  But, all these things were nowhere near enough to persuade him that he should actually _like_ him or wish to be in his company.

 

Thorin was seated with his heir, the son of Dain, as the two elves entered the room.  The dwarf rose to his feet with a glad smile on his lips and, for a moment, Legolas expected the two lovers to embrace and kiss.  But, in the presence of the two princes, they showed considerable restraint.  He saw his father reach out to touch him but then the hand fell to his side.  “It is good to see you once more, Thorin, son of Thrain,” he said quietly.  But his eyes were fixed upon the dwarf king’s face and never left it.

 

“Welcome, Thranduil, son of Oropher,” Thorin responded.  And his deep, husky voice carried with it such a whiff of sensuous yet restrained desire that Legolas felt vaguely uncomfortable.  The dwarf introduced the two princes and then he poured them all a glass of wine.  Legolas and Young Thorin looked sullenly at each other and the kings, noticing this, shook their heads at each other behind their backs.  They spoke about the lessons that they had arranged for the two of them in the coming weeks and then encouraged Young Thorin to take Legolas on a guided tour of the vast complex that was Erebor.  “Then show him the suite of rooms we have set aside for him near to your own; and, after that, go down to dinner and we shall meet you in the Great Hall.”

 

The princes had finally made their exit and Thorin leaned against the door and locked it.  “At last,” he said with a long sigh.  “I thought they would never leave.”  And he turned to face his lover.

 

Thranduil stood tall and elegant and beautiful in the middle of the room.  As usual, he tilted his head at an aloof angle but his eyes were full of fire.  “Thorin,” he breathed.  And he held out his arms as the dwarf strode towards him across the room.

 

“Thranduil,” muttered Thorin, deep in his throat, and their lips met in a fierce kiss.  Their mouths still locked, they struggled to get out of their clothes but, finally, only half undressed, they collapsed laughing upon the thick rug where they enjoyed each other’s bodies with a certain measure of desperation.

 

At last, they fell apart and the elf lord lay upon the dwarf’s broad chest and closed his eyes.  “Those two weeks seemed like a lifetime,” he said.

 

“An eternity,” sighed Thorin.  “But, now we have our heirs in training, let us hope that their help will soon free up a little more time that we can spend with each other.”

 

“They don’t seem to like each other very much,” said the elven king.

 

“They don’t have to like each other – just become adept at their lessons so that they know what they’re doing when we let them loose on our two economies,” was the dwarf’s response.

 

“Shall we move?” Thranduil suddenly asked.

 

Thorin slid a brawny arm around him and murmured in his ear: “What?  To the bed?”

 

“No,” laughed the elf.  “To the bath.  The evening draws on and dinner will soon be served in the Great Hall.  We don’t want that pair coming to look for us.”

 

And so they retired to the bath.  But wet lips and soapy hands brought on another hiatus in their progress down to the dining hall and they both arrived a little late and flushed at the great table.  Some of the dwarves exchanged knowing grins but the two princes, seated as they were between Balin and Brangwyn, looked annoyed and even embarrassed.

 

“Don’t let this happen again!” whispered Barngwyn sharply.  “You owe a duty to your heirs.”  And the two kings nodded in agreement, knowing they were at fault. 

 

Legolas raised an eyebrow in amazement that his father would let a dwarf woman speak so insolently to him.  But, Young Thorin had been watching the interaction of these three for two weeks now and a look of understanding passed briefly across his face.  He guessed that even Brangwyn herself did not realise the power that she had over the kings and her confidence and her stern manner was beginning to act as a strong aphrodisiac on him.  How he wanted to take her to his bed and discover the real Brangwyn.  But, he still wondered exactly what relationship the dwarf woman had with his king and he circled her warily.

 

.o00o.

 

 

Next and final chapter: _Bedroom Farce._ Legolas and Young Thorin finally realise why they have been brought to Erebor - and they're not best pleased.  How will this affect the relationship between the two kings and their princes?  And where does Brangwyn come into it?


	3. Bedroom Farce

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this chapter is very much a Bedroom Farce with doors opening and closing and the two kings being caught out in unfortunate scenarios. In some ways, it is superficially funny but not so funny for Thorin and Thranduil who stand to lose the love and respect of their heirs. And, unfortunately, Brangwyn is drawn into things and might lose something important to her as well.

.o00o.

 

Bedroom Farce

 

Thranduil was right: the two princes neither liked each other nor got on well together.  There was an intense rivalry between them, the kings noted.  Young Thorin enjoyed showing off the splendours and the beauties of Erebor whilst Legolas retaliated by making odious comparisons between the dwarven kingdom and Mirkwood, mainly focusing on the superior sophistication of his own home.

 

Unfortunately for Legolas, their lessons were set in the great Treasury where the wealth of Erebor stretched out before him as far as the eye could see.  During a break, Young Thorin swept his arm in a generous arc about the endless vaulted chamber.  “Have you ever seen so much gold?” he asked smugly.

 

“It would be somewhat less,” replied the haughty Legolas, “if the dwarves returned to others what they owed them.”

 

“And what do you mean by that?” snapped the dwarf.

 

“Only that your ancestors stole from us and doubtless from many others.”

 

Thorin jumped to his feet, his fists bunched, and a fight just might have broken out if Brangwyn had not entered the room.  She assessed the situation quickly and then said firmly to the dwarf:  “I’ve come for your help, Thorin, if you don’t mind.”  And the prince was forced to trail after her whilst Legolas smirked as he made his exit.

 

Brangwyn took him into a side room and said patiently: “Well, what was going on there, then?”

 

The prince shrugged.  “The usual.  He doesn’t like me and I don’t like him.  I’ll be glad when Thranduil takes him back to Mirkwood to continue his lessons there.”

 

Brangwyn placed her hand gently on the young dwarf’s.  “It would be so nice if you could try harder with him.  He’s not in his own home and you do provoke him rather by boasting about the riches and the power of Erebor.”

 

Dain’s son looked down at the white hand resting on his own.  It was soft and pretty and plump and he imagined it caressing his body.  “ _You_ provoke me,” he said softly.  And before she could stop him, he had raised her hand to his lips and, opening her palm, had pressed a kiss passionately upon it.  And, as she sat confused, he seized her by the chin and forced his mouth upon her own.

 

Brangwyn struggled to push him away and broke off the kiss.  But, as she rose from her chair, his arms slid around her and he held her in a tight grip.  “What is your relationship with Thorin?” he murmured into her throat.  “Do you have something left over for me?”  Her hair smelled so good and her body felt so soft beneath his hands that he groaned with pleasure.  “There’s plenty of time for us to have some fun,” he continued, running his hands down over her round buttocks and pressing her to him, “whilst Thorin is screwing Thranduil.”

 

She gave a powerful thrust and he staggered away.  Then, as he laughed and moved towards her again, she held up a warning finger and said sharply: “Stop this naughtiness at once!  And if you don’t want me to complain to Thorin, you’ll return to your lessons right this minute!”  And he suddenly remembered the blow across the face that the king had given him and he backed petulantly to the door.

 

“I’ll be back, don’t doubt it,” he warned her before he made his exit from the room.

 

Brangwyn stood thinking for a moment about what had just happened.  She touched the palm of her hand where she could still feel the imprint of his kiss.  It was all so surprising and unexpected.  He was such a handsome lad and she had begun to enjoy his company this past week or so.  But……  And she shook off her silly thoughts and marched off purposefully to organise some other area of Erebor’s business.

 

However, the bad feeling between the two princes was bound to come to a head at some point.  Balin had sent them both down to the stables to curry their own horses: “To learn some humility,” he had said.

 

For the most part, they stood with their backs to each other, not saying a word…..until Legolas decided to be a bit provocative.  “I wonder what my father sees in Thorin?” he said.

 

“Yes,” retaliated the dwarven prince, “I’ve also wondered what Thorin sees in Thranduil.  After all, with a beautiful dwarf woman like Brangwyn  available, I personally can’t see why he chose your father at all.”

 

“Beautiful?!” snorted Legolas.  “Well, I wouldn’t want _that_ in my bed!”

 

Young Thorin went on the defensive.  The elf was insulting all dwarves and Brangwyn in particular.  And, although he was treating her rather badly himself, he had begun to feel quite drawn to her.

 

He decided to give the pot an extra stir: “Hmm,” he said.  “Well, I don’t think your father is being quite as picky as you.”

 

Legolas abruptly stopped what he was doing and said coldly: “And what do you mean by that?”

 

“Oh, didn’t you know?” asked the dwarf airily.  “All three of them share a bed.”

 

He heard the elf’s sharp intake of breath and smiled to himself.  He had made that one up, of course, but he knew it would seem a possibility to Legolas who was obviously very disturbed by his father’s behaviour.  “And so,” he added, “it would seem that Thranduil is more than taken with the attraction of dwarves.”  The dwarf turned and smirked at the elven prince who had raised his fists and seemed spoiling for a fight.  Good, he thought.  I’d really like an excuse to hit him.  But, Legolas took a deep, controlling breath and lowered his hands.

 

One more push, thought the dwarf.  “And why do you think you’ve been brought here?  And why do you think we have lessons all day or are sent down to the stables to groom horses?”  Legolas didn’t answer and so he answered for him.  “So that we can learn to be useful and relieve them of their duties, thus giving the three of them more time to screw each other.”

 

Legolas stared for a moment and then, throwing his brush at the dwarf, spun on his heel and strode out of the stable.  Now, I wonder where he’s going, Dain’s son grinned to himself?

 

The young prince had definitely touched on the truth with his insinuations although Brangwyn was not part of the equation.  When Legolas flung open the door of Thorin’s room, his father and the dwarf were lying naked on the bed together.  The two kings froze in the middle of a passionate act and the Prince of Mirkwood stopped in horror on the threshold.  It was one thing to be told that your father and the king of Erebor were lovers; it was quite another to actually catch them doing something that Legolas found totally repellent.  His eyes took in the whole scene and his stomach heaved.

 

When the two kings just stared at him in appalled horror, Legolas had the opportunity to say his piece.  “And I thought you trusted me enough to teach me the duties of kingship!  I thought you were enjoying being with me and passing on your knowledge.  Instead, all you wanted was the extra time in which to fuck this dwarf!” he cried.  And, his face twisting in anger, he strode from the room. 

 

The prince hurtled down the corridor, almost knocking over Brangwyn.  “Where are you going?” she yelled after him.

 

“Home!” he shouted over his shoulder.  And the concerned dwarf woman dashed through the still-open door of Thorin’s apartment.

 

“No!” she gasped as she witnessed the frozen tableau of the two naked kings locked together on the bed.

 

“Yes!” groaned Thorin.  And he finally slumped back upon the pillow.

 

“He’s on his way back to Mirkwood,” Brangwyn said.  And, at this, Thranduil stumbled from the bed and looked distractedly around himself for his discarded clothing.  The king’s relationship with his son was already not of the best and now he was distraught.  He stood, naked and dazed, trying to pull on his breeches, and wept.  “He’ll never forgive me,” he said.

 

Brangwyn’s heart went out to him and she sped across the room and flung her arms around him.  “There, there!” she murmured, patting his back.  “It’ll all work out in the end.”

 

Thranduil rested his face on her head and stroked her hair, grateful for her comfort.  But, just at that moment, the door swung open again and Thorin rolled his eyes.  Did no-one ever knock?

 

This time, it was Dain’s son, who stood on the threshold with a shocked expression on his face.  He had sauntered up the stairs after Legolas had rushed from the stable to see if there was any fun to be had.  But this was not what he had expected to find: a ménage a trois scenario that he had conjured up for the benefit of the elven prince but which he hadn’t realised actually existed.  There was Thorin, naked on the bed.  And there was Thranduil, half-naked, with Brangwyn clasped in his arms.  A sudden wave of jealousy swept over him because he had been sure that the dwarf woman would be his in the end; and he pointed an angry finger at her.  “I thought you were the king’s whore when I first met you,” he cried, “but Thorin denied it.  All lies!  You are worse than ever I thought you were!”  And he stomped furiously from the room.

 

The three stared after him with wide eyes and then Brangwyn pushed Thranduil from her. “For goodness’ sake, you two,” she snapped.  “Get some clothes on before someone else comes marching in and finds us like this.”  And they hastily did as they were told whilst Brangwyn slumped miserably in a chair by the window.  “And I was really beginning to like him,” she said.

 

Thorin stopped abruptly in the middle of buttoning up his shirt.  “You like him?” he asked.  And then he turned gleefully towards Thranduil: “Meet the future wife of the heir of Erebor,” he announced.

 

“Not likely now,” snapped Brangwyn. “I don’t think that the prince will be willing to consider one of your cast-offs.”

 

“But you’re not my cast-off!” exclaimed Thorin.

 

“Just try telling your young heir that,” she said glumly.  “What a mess.”

 

Thranduil was ready now.  “Right,” he said.  “I’ll go after him.”

 

“No, you won’t,” advised Brangwyn.  “You’ll go tomorrow and give him a chance to get over the shock.  And the same goes for Prince Thorin,” she added.  “He’s probably sulking in his room.”

 

“Perhaps you could talk to him,” said the dwarf king hopefully.  “I’m not trying to wriggle out of things,” he assured her.  “I just think that you’d do a better job.”

 

“But first,” said Brangwyn, “I want to talk to _you_.”

 

Ever since they had first met and especially since the beginning of their love affair, Thorin and Thranduil had felt emotionally confused, overwhelmed, bewildered, perplexed, out of control….. Then Brangwyn had come into their lives and her common sense had made so many things right again.  And so they listened to her, leaning forward in their seats and hanging on everything she said.

 

“It’s not so much that Legolas saw you two having a fuck or that Young Thorin saw us in a compromising situation,” she explained carefully, and they winced at her choice of words, “it’s more a case of them feeling used by you both.  They came here because they were happy to be the heirs to your thrones, to learn from you all they needed to know in order to be good kings.  Legolas, in particular, was pleased to have his father’s attention for once and even Young Thorin, from all I’ve heard about Dain, who doesn’t seem to care much about anyone, must have been pleased to feel that he was at last the centre of someone’s attention.  Their loneliness and insecurities go a long way to explaining their behaviour.  And then when it suddenly hit them that they were being used so that you two could satisfy your sexual desires for each other……Well, I’m not really surprised at their reaction.”

 

Thranduil hung his head.  “I’ve always been a bad father,” he said.  “What can we do to make reparation to them?”

 

“You must learn to control this obsession you have for each other,” she said gently.  “A son in your care must, of necessity, consume your time.  Being a parent means sacrificing your own desires and putting their needs first.  I’m afraid that this idea to get your heirs more closely involved in your lives will probably mean that you will have less time for each other, not more.  And so you must decide: do you want to be reconciled and be prepared to give up some of your time to helping them be the sort of kings you would want them to be?  Or do you want to reject them so that you can go back to your own selfish ways?”

 

Thorin sighed.  “You know what we must say.  So, tell us: how do we get our obsession under control?”

 

“You must bring a strict rhythm into your lives: spend one week together in Erebor, one in Mirkwood and one apart.  And, in that week that you are apart, you must devote all your time to your kingdoms and your heirs.  And,” she added with a grin, “when you’re together, no touching, no kissing, no anything except when you’re in bed at night.”  The two kings gave her a horrified look.  “But, this restraint,” she laughed, “will make those nights just _so_ much better.”

 

“And what about you?” Thorin asked her.  “Have we put an end to any possible relationship between you and my heir?”

 

“Who knows?” Brangwyn answered.  “But, you should realise by now that I’m not the sort of dwarf woman who easily lets something that she wants just slip away.  Now, you two,” she added more cheerfully, “let’s go down and dine together.  Good food and good company always make things seem an awful lot better.  And tomorrow is another day.”  With that, she linked her arms through theirs and led them from the room.

 

.o00o.

 

NEW STORY!  Well, the ending of this story has been left rather up in the air, hasn’t it?  But, I have posted the sixth story in the series:  _The Kings and their Heirs_.  Will Thorin, Thranduil and the princes be reconciled and is there a chance of a relationship between Young Thorin and Brangwyn?  This is ultimately one of 12.

 

I hope you are enjoying these Thorinduil stories and, if you are, it would be nice to hear from you.


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